


He's Under My Skin

by ash_mcj



Series: Teen Wolf Outsider POVs [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1, 5+1 Things, Affectionate Derek Hale, Allison Argent & Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore are Siblings, Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Caretaker Derek Hale, Caretaking, Chris Argent & Peter Hale & Sheriff Stilinski Friendship, Chris Argent is Derek Hale's Parental Figure, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Cute Kids, Derek Hale is a Softie, Fluff, Hale Family Feels, Kid Derek Hale, Kid Fic, Kid Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore are Peter Hale's Kids, Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore are Siblings, Multi, POV Chris Argent, POV Outsider, POV Outsider on Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale is Derek Hale's Parental Figure, Pre-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), SECRETLY, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Sickfic, Stiles Stilinski & Malia Tate Friendship, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Stiles Stilinski is Derek Hale's Anchor, The Hale Family, Werewolf Mates, Young Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_mcj/pseuds/ash_mcj
Summary: [5 Times Chris noticed that his reclusive nephew seemed to have an affinity for Stiles, and 1 Time he asked him about it]Chris Hale knew that his nephew Derek favored Stiles. The running assumption among the adults was that Stiles was Derek's anchor, which made enough sense as to why he treated him differently than he treated the rest of the pack. But then Chris started noticing that Derek didn't just like having Stiles around, he took care of him. From small things like getting him food when he was hungry, to larger things like taking it upon himself to nurse him back to health when he was sick.Chris realized that Derek wasn't treating Stiles like an anchor, he was treating him like a mate. And if he was proud of himself for figuring it out before Peter or Talia, well...it wasn't his fault they didn't pay enough attention.
Relationships: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Claudia Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Malia Tate, Stiles Stilinski & The Hale Pack
Series: Teen Wolf Outsider POVs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003113
Comments: 287
Kudos: 1311
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	1. Buttons Are Tough

**Author's Note:**

> AGES ARE ROUGHLY: Laura (15), Derek (11), Cora and Allison (6), Jackson, Malia, and Stiles (5)  
> Peter Hale and Chris Argent (Hale) are married and live at the Hale House with their three children: Allison, Jackson, and Malia. Their best friend is Noah Stilinski, so Stiles comes to the Hale house very frequently.
> 
> Inspired by the quote from Shameless (US):  
> “You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do?”

It was a rare moment in the Hale house, when Chris Argent had the kitchen to himself. None of his children were hanging on him or demanding food, no nieces or nephew standing around, no (clingy) husband pestering him. He loved his family with his heart and soul, but he also liked to breathe in peace for a few minutes here and there.

He knew the silence wouldn’t last long, though, because he was cooking. Specifically with bacon, which was a favorite among the Hale family. The downside to living with werewolves: there was absolutely no chance of cooking anything without them noticing and showing up for their share.

A knock at the door interrupted his peaceful morning. He was about to set the mixing bowl full of eggs down on the counter to answer it, but then the door swung open and the two people let themselves in without bothering to wait for permission. Chris didn’t even need to turn around and check who it was--the only people who knew they had full access to a house full of werewolves and were brave enough to just waltz in after a warning knock were Noah Stilinksi and his son Stiles. If Claudia was with them, she would have made them wait for someone to answer, which is how Chris knew it was just the two of them that morning.

“How nice of you to cook me breakfast, Chris,” Noah said in lieu of a greeting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him grab a mug out of the cabinet and help himself to some of the coffee in the still-steaming pot. “And Coffee, too...you spoil me.”

“Only for you, Dear,” Chris teased, sending a playful wink at his best friend. The contents of the bowl were poured into the pan and the loud sound of the sizzling eggs filled the kitchen. Chris looked over at Stiles, who had seemingly distracted himself with staring intently at the wood grains of the table. “What’s so awesome about the table, Kiddo?”

“The marks in it look like little people with swirly heads and no arms,” Stiles answered thoughtfully.

“Hm...I hadn’t noticed.” 

He took the plate of diced green bell peppers and bacon bits and dumped the contents into the eggs, before taking the time to actually look at what Stiles was wearing. He had on a pair of bright orange shorts, a green t-shirt, and a red flannel that was buttoned extremely unevenly and mostly open at the top and bottom. He bit back a laugh, then said, “I see your daddy got you dressed this morning?”

“No, I did it myself!” Stiles exclaimed proudly, beaming like it was the biggest accomplishment he would ever make.

Chris hoped to the Gods that it was not, but he knew he'd love the kid regardless.

“Really?” Chris feigned surprise. “You look just as put-together as he did when we were younger. Very nice, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t catch onto what he was saying, but Noah definitely had, judging by the rolled up newspaper he had smacked Chris in the back of the head with.

“Yeah, just like how your daughter looks so put-together with all those leaves and sticks in her hair all the time.”

“Malia is Peter’s daughter when she has leaves and sticks in her hair.” Chris waved him off. "His genes."

Chris was almost startled by Derek walking into the room and sitting at the table.

“Well, you’re up early,” Noah commented, equally as surprised by his presence. “I never see you down here for breakfast.”

“Yeah, you usually sleep right through to lunch,” Chris added. “Special occasion?”

Derek just shook his head and looked around at the three of them. His eyes landed on Stiles and flickered down to his clothing for a moment, before he said, “Your flannel is wrong.”

“What?” Stiles squeaked, looking down at the article of clothing. “Darn it!"

“Derek, leave him alone,” Chris said, knowing that Stiles was proud of his wardrobe disaster. It wasn’t even eight o’ clock yet--the kid didn’t need to have his confidence shattered so early in the day.

“C’mere, Stiles, I’ll help you,” Noah said, sitting at the table and reaching for his son.

“I’ll do it!” Stiles said sternly, putting his hands over the buttons and turning away from him with his eyebrows lowered. “I don’t need any help. I can do it by myself.”

The little boy unbuttoned the flannel until it hung open, so that he could attempt it again from the beginning while it was properly lined-up. He took the two bottom pieces of the flannel in his hands and fastened two buttons correctly, before he had somehow skipped a hole and began buttoning them incorrectly again.

Derek let out a short sigh, then reached out and grabbed onto Stiles’ arm. He pulled him closer to his chair and swatted his hands away from the fabric so that he could fix the unaligned buttons for him. Stiles watched him without argument, despite having been very against help a moment prior.

Since when did Derek ever help anyone with things like buttons? It was so uncharacteristic that Chris couldn't help but just stare at the interaction. Sure, Stiles was likely his anchor, but that shouldn't have made fixing his buttons necessary.

“Good morning, Mieczysław,” Peter said cheerfully as he waltzed into the kitchen, then ran his hand through Stiles’ hair and down the back of his neck as soon as he was in arm’s reach. Stiles smiled brightly and leaned into the touch, but didn’t bother greeting him verbally, as his attention was still transfixed on watching Derek finish buttoning up his flannel. “How are you, Noah?”

Chris noticed the way Derek’s shoulders stiffened when Peter scented Stiles, which was odd, because Peter always scented Stiles--it was normal for adult wolves to scent pups they saw as their pack as a way of fondly acknowledging them. Peter even did it to Derek frequently, but he’d never seen the older boy look bothered by it before. Maybe he was jealous that Peter had scented Stiles and not him?

“I’ll be better when your husband makes me some of those eggs.”

“Ooh, with the peppers and bacon?”

“Don’t act like you couldn’t smell them from our bedroom and hurried yourself down here for the sole purpose of stealing my breakfast,” Chris accused.

“I take offence to that, Christopher. I hurried down here because I was eager to spend breakfast with my favorite nephew and godson. Oh, and this old man sitting at the table, too,” Peter said as he took a seat beside Noah.

“You can’t call me old when we’re the same age, Peter.”

“Don’t remind me of my age, Noah, it’s rude.”

“Should I go get Allie and Cora and Malia?” Stiles asked, shifting from side to side and looking towards the entryway. 

“Could you also get Jackson?” Chris asked him.

Stiles scrunched up his nose in annoyance and wondered, “Do I have to?”

“Go, Miecz,” Peter laughed, pushing him lightly towards the entryway. Chris could have _sworn_ that he saw Derek tense again for a moment.

“Fine. Thanks for helping with my buttons, Der,” Stiles said, before running off to find the pups. Derek didn't bother answering beyond an uninterested grunt.

“Let me tell you guys...I love my son. I do. He’s so smart and so capable...but the kid can not get the hang of buttons,” Noah snickered quietly. “Am I awful for thinking it’s hilarious?”

“We can start meeting on Tuesdays to have buttoning parties? Everyone can bring dress shirts, flannels, and wine,” Peter offered, humor evident in his tone. “He’ll learn and we’ll get drunk--it seems like a good idea to me.”

“There’s always zippers, if the buttoning parties don’t work,” Chris noted with a chuckle.

“Buttons are tough,” Derek spoke, his voice sharp and almost defensive. “He just...needs to slow down.”

“What?” Chris asked, unsure of why Derek was acting so odd today. He’d never had problems before when they would all joke about the pups.

“He thinks a lot...his fingers can’t focus on the buttons," Derek explained. "He’s trying to be fast, so he can do something else.”

“I think you’re right, Nephew,” Peter agreed. “That child thinks a mile a minute on his slow days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a little more Petopher + BFF Noah, rather than a focus on Sterek, but I swear I'll focus on Derek and Stiles now. I just love Chris, Peter, and Noah so muchhh.


	2. Turkey Sandwich

Chris was lying in his large bed alongside Peter, not quite having the energy to get out of bed yet, despite it being long past breakfast time. He knew that Laura was outside with the pups, so really, there was no dire reason why he would have to be productive today. He was entitled to the occasional lazy morning.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am to have found a husband that grows such sexy facial hair?” Peter asked him softly, slowly brushing his fingertips over the side of Chris’ jaw. 

Chris smiled and reached up to intertwine their fingers, before bringing their clasped hands to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss on the back of Peter's. “You couldn’t possibly be as glad as _I_ am for finding a husband that looks like an Adonis and caters his entire wardrobe to flaunt it.”

“Mmm, you’re right.” Peter smirked. “You’re one lucky man.”

“Oh, I know. You don’t let me forget it.”

“Since you’re so lucky...and you love me so dearly...would you like to go see why the pups are screaming? We haven’t checked on them in hours and although I have faith in our niece...well, the faith is limited.”

“They're screaming?" Chris groaned. "I take back what I said--I wish I had a husband that didn’t make me get out of bed when I’m trying to relax.”

Chris forced himself up into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“The faster you go check, the sooner you can come back to bed,” Peter reasoned, sliding his warm hand under the hem of Chris’ t-shirt and rubbing a couple of rhythmic circles into his skin, before pushing him off the bed onto his feet.

Chris grumbled under his breath about how much of an asshole Peter was, knowing damn well he could hear him, as he made his way out of the room. While walking down the stairs, he heard a familiar, energetic voice speaking almost too quickly to be understood, coming from the kitchen.

“And then I was hiding in a bush--there was a _spider_ in it!--and Allie was looking for me, but she couldn’t see me. I was trying to be super quiet, even though the spider was moving--it was _moving_ , Derek; it was gross and creepy--and she walked away and didn’t even find me! But then Cora came over and she found me, but I think she used her smelling, which was against the rules! And I told her, but she didn’t listen because she’s Cora. And then-- _Derek_ , she _picked up_ the spider!”

Stiles was sitting at the table, eating what looked like a turkey sandwich, while Derek was seated across from him with an open book in hand. Chris wasn’t sure if he was actually reading, because it must have been difficult to focus with Stiles’ rambling, but he was at least pretending by staring at it intently.

“That looks like a good sandwich, Kiddo,” Chris said as he entered the room.

“Mhm; Derek made it!” Stiles chirped, before taking another large bite. “Tuky is mah favorot.”

“Ew,” Derek grimaced, looking at the way the food was practically falling out of Stiles’ mouth as he tried to talk around it. “Swallow.”

“Well, that was nice of you to make him lunch, Derek,” Chris praised. Derek was notorious for going to great lengths to conveniently ‘not be around’ whenever the adults were looking for some extra hands with the pups, so it was rather surprising that Stiles had gotten a sandwich from him.

“He stole it.”

That made even less sense. Since when did Derek share his food? Or anything, for that matter.

“I _asked_ \--that means it wasn’t stealing!” Stiles told him. “You _gave_ it to me.”

“Your stomach was loud--it was annoying.”

“You think _everything_ is annoying.”

“Yeah, especially you,” Derek teased, his green eyes holding a playful glint that Chris had seen countless times on both Peter and Cora, but had never imagined on Derek. It surprisingly suited him, though.

“That’s rude to me.” Stiles rolled his eyes, but a fond smile lit up his face. Derek simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

A loud shriek came from out front and Chris recalled why he had come downstairs in the first place. 

“I should probably feed them, huh?” Chris asked, mostly to himself.

“No more bread,” Derek told him while shutting his book and standing up from the table. As he passed by Stiles, he pushed the plastic water cup that was standing beside his plate, towards him. Stiles seemed to get the hint and took a large sip as the older boy was walking out of the room. 

Derek was making Stiles drink _water_? Chris almost called him out on it, but he figured it would be best not to discourage it. If he was starting to help out with even one of the kids, Chris would be grateful.


	3. First Aid

“Christopher, why did you let me become an attorney?” Peter complained as he scrolled through his latest case file on his iPad. 

“Because you’re great at arguing why you’re right and it gets you lots of money from your clients,” Chris told him honestly. “And Malia eats enough to feed a small army, so money is always good.”

“She really does,” Peter laughed, tilting his head to rest on Chris’ shoulder. Chris shifted to be able to put his arm around his husband and pressed a kiss against the side of his head. “Where does all that food even go? I’m a grown ass werewolf and she eats more than me.”

“I've been wondering that since she was born. I think you should start teaching her how to hunt deer or something so we can cut back on how much food we have to make.”

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs caught their attention and they looked over at the entryway as Derek came into view with the first aid bag in his hand.

“Why do you have the first aid stuff? Is someone hurt?” Chris asked him worriedly. Surely Peter would hear if someone was dying outside, right?

Derek nodded towards the door, right before it burst open on cue. Stiles limped into the house with a tear-streaked face and a steady stream of blood was running down his shin from a two-inch cut on his knee. Before Chris could even offer to help, Derek had grabbed ahold of Stiles’ upper arm and lifted his weight off of the injured leg, so that he wouldn’t have to walk on it as he was led to the kitchen. 

Peter raised a curious eyebrow at Chris as the man stood up and moved quietly to look through the archway of the living room into the kitchen. He was curious! He had spent over a decade watching Derek be a reclusive grump, so seeing this side of his nephew was rather interesting to him.

Stiles was seated at the table with his leg propped up on another chair. Derek was crouched beside him, cleaning up the cut with a wet cloth and wiping the blood from his shin. He leaned down to inspect it for a moment, before tossing the cloth on the chair beside Stiles’ foot and digging the bottle of hydrogen peroxide out of the first aid kit. He took the cap off and poured a small amount over the cut, eliciting a sharp cry from the younger boy. Stiles reached for the source of the pain instinctively, but Derek shielded the cut from his hands and placed his palm on Stiles’ shin. Chris watched in shock as black veins crawled up Derek’s forearm and Stiles sagged back into the chair with a sigh.

“Are you gonna put a bandaid on it?” Stiles questioned.

“It needs to dry.”

Chris rushed back over to his husband, before whispering, “Derek just pulled Stiles' pain...when did he even learn how to do that?”

"Really?” Peter asked interestedly. “I wasn’t aware that he knew how. I suppose Laura was only about a year older when she started, though.”

“Is it normal for Derek to take care of Stiles so much? I mean...you know Derek...he's the _last_ person who would be considered a denmaker. He won’t be the one helping anyone with homework or cooking or anything for the pack in the future. He acts that way with Stiles, though. Is that _normal_ for an anchor?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Peter shrugged, setting the iPad down on the cushion beside him. “It would make sense that he’d want Stiles safe. Your anchor is important--it grounds you. Keeps your emotions and your wolf in check. I wouldn’t say most wolves would make their anchors drink water on the regular, but I also wouldn’t say Derek is normal. He may just feel more connected to his anchor because he needs him more than most of us need ours. It’s hard to say. Do you have another theory?”

“No, I don't."

Chris had an _inkling_ of a theory, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to voice it yet.

Even with Peter's reasoning, Derek's actions _were_ weird. Chris could understand why he would feel more inclined to protect his anchor, since his wolf was always so close to the surface--but at the same time, Derek never seemed to have a problem with this. He never acted concerned over his lack of control or said anything to suggest that he had any intention of changing his wolfish tendencies. That was one of the biggest reasons that they thought he might go feral. He _liked_ letting his wolf be so present. He never had an interest in being more human.

So, why would he suddenly care about having an anchor so much?


	4. Nightmare

The pups were playing in the front yard and Chris had somehow ended up in one of the patio chairs they had set up on the porch, once again on babysitting duty. He had brought a book outside, but it was forgotten almost immediately, as his attention had been drawn to the intense wrestling match his twins were in the middle of. He watched closely as they rolled around and kept an eye on Malia to make sure she wasn’t accidentally (or purposefully) shifting. He honestly hadn't thought he would have to protect his son so often from his sister.

“Uncle Chris,” Laura called as she came over to him. “Stiles is crying. I can watch the pups, if you want to go check on him.”

Noah had dropped Stiles off early in the morning before his shift at the police station and the boy had apparently not slept well the night before, so he had crashed out within a half an hour of coming over. Chris had placed him in his and Peter’s bed to nap, hoping that he wouldn’t wake up cranky, but it seemed his hopes were left ignored. Crying usually wasn’t a sign of a good nap.

“Okay, thanks. Could you just make sure that Malia doesn't kill Jackson?” Chris requested as he got up from the chair.

"Yeah." She sat in his spot and picked his book up.

He made his way into the house and quickly climbed the stairs. Judging by the sniffling and quiet whimpers coming from down the hall, Stiles had clamed down a bit. When Chris got to his doorway, he paused.

Derek was seated on the edge of the bed with Stiles hugging onto him tightly. His arms were wrapped securely around the younger boy as Stiles buried his face in his neck and took calming breaths.

“Th-there was a m-monster,” Stiles whispered to Derek, just loud enough for Chris to hear.

“It was a dream, Mischief,” Derek assured him.

“It w-was gonna get me.”

“No one was in here. No monster. I would smell it, okay?” Derek reasoned, tightening his arms around Stiles. “It was a dream. Not real.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” Derek said. He shifted his body into the middle of the bed, pulling Stiles with him as he went, and then laid back against the headboard. Stiles leaned away and grabbed his pillow, before setting it in Derek’s lap and laying down. He curled up against Derek’s legs, while his head rested on the pillow. Derek’s hand ran through his hair soothingly as he looked down at him.

As Chris watched the interaction, his theory switched over to a fact in his mind.

Derek adored Stiles--there was no questioning it. He was never territorial around him. He shared whatever Stiles wanted, and even _offered_ some things. He took care of him when he knew he needed something. He pulled his pain--which, that alone proved that he was someone special to Derek. But, Stiles wasn't just his anchor. He couldn't be. Derek would not allow Stiles to cross so many of his boundaries if he was just an anchor. Having an anchor didn’t magically make him accepting of outsider’s scents in his room. It didn’t make him take on caretaker tendencies. That made no sense.

What did make sense, though, was that Stiles was Derek's _mate_.

Chris thought back to the way Derek had obviously disliked Peter scenting Stiles. Scenting, from what he had gathered from living with werewolves for the past ten years, was a way of claiming. For parents with their pups--which was how Peter was doing it--it was both an affection thing and a way for other wolves to know that those pups were protected by another werewolf.

Derek was territorial. Of course he would have gotten upset when Peter claimed Stiles, because he saw the human as _his_ , whether he realized it or not. Derek didn’t share his things--Stiles included. He was possessive and territorial _of_ Stiles, instead of _towards_ him, because Stiles was his mate. 

“Uncle Chris?” Derek asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He must have been letting off some rather confusing chemosignals, judging by the puzzled, yet wary look Derek was giving him. “It’s okay I’m in here?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chris told him. “Thanks for checking on him.”

Derek just shrugged and looked back down at him.

With that, Chris left the doorway and headed towards the stairs again. There was no reason to stick around--Derek obviously had everything under control.

Chris honestly never thought he would be saying that.

As soon as he had made it back out onto the porch, Laura was looking at his disbelieving smile with excited eyes as her nose flared, taking in his scent. “You see it, don’t you? That it’s not just an anchor thing.”

“They’re mates,” Chris said out loud for the first time.

“I have no idea how my mom and Uncle Peter haven’t seen it--it’s been obvious for awhile now,” Laura said.

She was right--it _had_ been so ridiculously obvious. As someone with a mate, Chris felt like he should have seen this earlier.


	5. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone else is from the USA, like me...happy Thanksgiving! I'm ready to eat pie all day.

It was nearing five o’ clock in the evening when the Stilinski family walked into the Hale house.

Peter all but flew down the stairs and flitted to Noah, before putting his arm around his shoulders and leaning down to noticeably sniff the red Tupperware he was holding in his hand. They all knew damn well that he could smell those cookies from upstairs, but Peter Hale was nothing if not theatrical. 

“Claudia, my dear, I should’ve married you instead,” Peter teased, glancing over at her with a smile on his face. “Your baking skills are the thing of my dreams.”

“Well, that Tupperware is full to the brim--eat all you want,” Claudia laughed warmly.

“Don’t tell him that, Claudia; he’s a wolf...he'll eat them all,” Noah snorted. “Save some for the pups, huh?”

“Ugh, they always get _everything_ ,” Peter complained with a dramatic eye roll. “I never knew having kids would involve so much _sharing_.”

“Stiles!” Cora yelled as she ran at the little boy who had finally wandered into the house and pulled him in a tight hug. He grinned and tilted his head to the side so that Cora could run her nose and cheek down his neck in greeting.

Suddenly, Derek passed by Chris in a blur and went straight to Stiles. He pulled Cora off of the younger boy by the back of her shirt --which prompted a very annoyed rumble from the girl-- and leaned down to sniff the unscented side of Stiles’ neck. Once he seemed to confirm what he suspected, he straightened up in alarm. “You’re sick.”

“I have some allergies.” Stiles shrugged, before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

Derek reached out and put the back of his hand on the boy’s forehead for a few seconds, before he said, “You have a _fever_.”

“I felt him before we came over and he didn’t feel hot to me,” Claudia told him, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

“His skin is always _cold_ ,” Derek growled at her. “He’s warm...he has a fever.”

“Derek, keep your temper,” Talia warned, her eyes flashing once at her son. He instinctively tilted his head to bare his throat, but he kept his hard green eyes on Claudia. 

“I’m sorry, Talia, I didn’t think it was anything more than allergies, honestly. If I had known--”

“It’s no problem, Claudia. The only ones who could possibly get sick in this house are Allison, Jackson, and Chris--and they will survive the allergy-like symptoms, I’m sure of it.”

“And a fever,” Derek added sourly.

“We'll be fine,” Chris assured Claudia as he moved forward and casually gripped the back of Derek’s neck, subtly forcing his head down just slightly so that he would stop glaring at her. He complied, the hold of his pack’s Right Hand forcing his wolf to submit.

“I cannot express my love for you and these cookies,” Peter spoke up from the kitchen, bringing everyone’s attention away from Derek and towards the chocolate chip cookies he was holding in each hand. 

“So, that’s a no on saving some for your kids?” Noah shook his head. 

“I gave them _life_ \--I don’t owe them anything else.”

“Well, save some for your husband,” Chris said, releasing Derek when Claudia had gone into the kitchen with Talia.

“You already took my last name--you want my cookies, too?” Peter asked, feigning annoyance. “So greedy.”

Chris rolled his eyes fondly --a ridiculous habit that he had somehow picked up from Peter. Derek, Cora, Malia, Jackson, and even Stiles were all notorious for their eye rolling and Chris hated to admit that it had sneaked its way into his everyday reactions, as well. Peter was a horrible influence, really.

The adults fell into an easy discussion about how awful work was and how their children were going to give them gray hairs prematurely, as they all worked together to put their dinner together. Chris was on spaghetti duty, Claudia was putting together the salad, Noah was setting the table with the proper number of placings, Talia was tending to the garlic bread, and Peter...well, Peter had somehow gotten out of doing anything productive and was watching them all from the table as he snacked on the cookies. 

“Are the kids still alive? It’s pretty quiet out there,” Noah noticed once the meal was nearly done.

“I’ll go check,” Chris volunteered, since he was done with his portion. He set the bowl of spaghetti onto the table and walked into the living room. Laura, Jackson, and Allison were seated on the couch, while Malia and Cora were cuddled into each other on the ground; the five of them halfway through Sleeping Beauty. “Where are Stiles and Derek?”

“They’ve been upstairs since the Stilinskis got here,” Laura answered without looking away from the movie.

Chris made his way up the stairs and immediately noticed that the bathroom light was streaming out into the hallway from the open door at the end of the hall. What were they doing in the bathroom?

Upon peeking in, he saw something he didn’t really expect.

Stiles was sitting in a bath, wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that Chris was pretty sure were Jackson’s. The water was full to the brim, reaching Stiles’ mid chest and nearly spilling over the side. He was leaned forward against the side, looking at the comic book Derek was reading. Derek wasn’t reading aloud, but Stiles seemed content enough to just look at the pictures as he flipped through it. 

“You put Stiles in a lukewarm bath?” Chris realized. His mother used to do that for him and his sister Kate when they were younger and would get sick. He didn’t even know how Derek knew about the fever-reducing technique, since he and his sisters couldn’t get sick and he and Peter had never used it with Allison or Jackson.

“It’s for my fever,” Stiles confirmed.

“How is it?”

Derek reached out and Stiles met his movement by leaning more into the back of Derek’s hand. Derek held the contact for a moment, before pulling his hand away and saying, “Better. Almost gone.”

“That’s good.” Chris nodded, a proud smile on his face. “Well, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Mmm,” Stiles hummed excitedly, before wetly coughing straight into the side of Derek’s face. The older boy closed his eyes and let out an irritated sigh.

Chris stifled a laugh by biting his tongue and left to return to the kitchen. As soon as he was there, he said, “Stiles is upstairs wearing Jackson’s clothes and sitting in a lukewarm bath to combat the fever while Derek shows him comics.”

“Aw, how sweet,” Claudia cooed. “He doesn’t need to do that.”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid,” Chris told her, before turning to Peter. “You know, I expect nothing less than Derek-level commitment from you next time I get sick.”

“Sweetheart,” Peter purred, a smirk playing over his lips. “You don’t need to be sick to get me to draw you a bath and read to you...not so long as I can bring wine and join you.”

“Noah, you’d better be taking notes for date nights,” Claudia said, looking at Noah pointedly. “You have no excuse to not have overflowing romantic ideas for me, when these two are your best friends.”

“Stop making me look bad,” Noah said, pointing at the two of them.

***

That night, once the Stilinskis had left and Peter and Chris were settling into bed for the night, Chris blurted out, “I think Stiles is Derek’s mate.”

Peter raised an skeptical eyebrow at his partner as he slid into bed beside him. “Do you now?”

“You don’t think so? I mean...look at everything Stiles gets away with. Things not even _Talia_ can. He takes care of him...feeding him, comforting him after nightmares, caring so much about him having a fever. It’s a little excessive for an anchor bond.” Chris explained. “And Derek never pushes him away. Ever. You know how much I love Stiles --just as much as you do-- but even _we_ can’t handle his energy all the time. How does _Derek_ of all people manage him so seemingly effortlessly?”

“It’s not impossible,” Peter mused, staring ahead with unfocused eyes as he seemed to mull it over. “It’s extremely rare though. The majority of wolves never find their mate at all --it’s practically unheard of to find each other so young. Like I said before, Derek is probably just protective of Stiles because of how much he relies on him.”

“Peter, I don’t think Derek gives a monkey’s ass about being anchored. I mean, he seemed ready to lash out at Claudia today over the fever thing --we all saw it.”

“Again, it’s not completely impossible,” Peter reiterated. “I’m just saying that we shouldn’t jump to labeling them with such a heavily implicative title. Being mates is a big deal and they are very young. There’s no way of knowing if they are without Derek saying something, since he’s the only one that would feel the actual mate bond. Besides, he likely wouldn’t realize what it was until Stiles was older. Mate bonds take the form of whatever the other needs, so it wouldn’t even present itself as something romantic until Stiles was old enough to want that. Then there's the fact that Derek doesn't ever talk about how he's feeling, so he likely wouldn't tell us about his mate bond, anyway.”

“I think you should watch them and see for yourself. I know it’s a big title, but Peter, it’s so obvious. Laura sees it, too.”

“Oh, Gods,” Peter chuckled. “You're gossiping with our teenage niece about our nephew’s potential future love life? You’re supposed to be the mature one out of the two of us, you know. That's how this works.”

“Trust me--you’ll see, if you look a little closer. I’d put money on it.”

“Financial betting with you is pointless when we share bank accounts.”

“The ‘I told you so’ that I’ll get to say to you in ten years will be better than a financial bet.”

“Grow up, Christopher,” Peter said, amusement laced into his tone. He pulled him into his side and pressed a kiss against the man’s temple.


	6. He's Under My Skin

Chris was seated at the kitchen table reading through the ridiculous amount of emails that had flooded his inbox since that morning. Whoever recommended that he should work in the Human Resources department for the Beacon Hills School District was an asshole. 

He startled slightly when familiar hands landed gently on his shoulders and moved down his chest. Peter leaned down to press a kiss behind his ear and said, “You need to come to bed, Sweetheart.”

“I need to respond to these.”

“No one is going to see your responses at nine-thirty,” Peter insisted. “Turn the computer off like a normal human and come up to bed.”

“Noah will be here in less than an hour for Stiles--we should probably wait.”

“Noah has a key and I told him that Miecz is in Derek’s room. I have full faith that he can find his way without us.”

“When did we start going to sleep so early?” Chris chuckled, tilting his head back a bit to look up at his husband. “We’re only twenty-seven--we should be able to make it to ten o’ clock.”

“I don’t recall saying we were going to _sleep_ \--I said you should come to _bed_ ,” Peter whispered, then slowly dragged his lower lip up the outer shell of Chris’ ear, his breath ghosting lightly over the sensitive area and causing an involuntary shiver to run down Chris’ spine. Peter pulled back and started for the entryway as he said, “Don’t keep me waiting too long--patience is not a quality I'm known for.”

“I’m aware,” Chris mumbled, shaking his head. He looked back at the table and found with surprise that his laptop was missing. “Sneaky bastard.”

He stood up and stretched his back out, his muscles sore from sitting there for so long, before heading in the direction Peter went. He took to the stairs quietly, not wanting to wake any of the kids up. He noticed that Derek’s bedroom door was open the way it always was when Stiles was in there, so he couldn’t help but peek in as he passed.

Derek immediately looked up at him when he paused in front of the doorway and saw Chris’ eyes flicker down to Stiles beside him. The five-year-old was fast asleep, only his face visible in the mound of blankets and pillows all around him. His mouth was wide open and a soft snore-like sound was coming out.

“Like an angel, huh?” Chris snickered. He hadn’t spent a whole lot of time looking at the way Stiles slept, but seeing it now...it really was the same way Noah slept. Chris and Peter used to take turns throwing little balls of paper at his open mouth in high school, whenever they’d crash at each other’s houses. It was funny how mannerisms like that --which didn’t seem as if they could possibly be hereditary--somehow were.

“He’s lucky there are no flies,” Derek said, looking down at Stiles. 

Chris couldn’t help but laugh, because...since when did Derek _joke_? Chris had never been sure of the idea that mates were truly made to make the other better --he really didn’t know any other mates besides himself and Peter, and they were ready to kill each other almost as much as they were in love-- but it seemed to be true in this case. Derek wasn’t the same person around Stiles as he was when he wasn’t around.

“Noah will be here within the hour...he’s just running late at work tonight and Claudia is sick with whatever Stiles had, so--”

“Uncle Peter told me.”

“Okay.” Chris nodded, then added, “You take good care of him.”

Derek shrugged his shoulders and looked back at the book in his lap. “He needs it.”

“It doesn’t have to be you, though. Peter or I would do it, but you usually beat us to it.”

“It’s fine.”

“I have to say, I’m impressed that you can handle him all the time,” Chris said, leaning against the doorframe. “He’s got a very...taxing personality at times.”

“It's not hard,” Derek disagreed. 

“He never bothers you?”

“He does, but he’s…” Derek said, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he seemed to struggle with coming up with the right words. “He’s under my skin.”

“In a good way?” Chris asked him.

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted. “I just _know_...like, inside...when he needs something and I…I can’t ignore him.”

“You don’t need to explain it,” Chris told him, knowing that his nephew was uncomfortable with the topic by the way he started shifting around and moved the book up higher, as if trying to put a barrier between himself and Chris.

Derek had never been good at putting things into words. Talia frequently tried to get him to talk more and open up, but that ultimately made him pull away from her as he got older. Chris and Peter made a point to make him as comfortable with them as possible and it gained them more trust than Derek gave the others, which they were grateful for.

Derek was different, but he didn’t deserve to be pressured into other people’s expectations of him--especially by his own pack.

Besides, Chris knew exactly what Derek was referring to. He didn’t need an explanation. Since Chris started dating Peter as teenagers, Peter had always known when he was upset or hurt and he always knew exactly how to help him. It wasn’t a surprise that Derek was the same way with Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)
> 
> If you want to read more in this particular Sterek series, bookmark/subscribe to the “Derek’s Person” series. That is where all of the fics I will write that happen within this universe will be posted. This is the third installment in the series, so feel free to read the first two while you wait for updates :)
> 
> If you want more Outsider POVs, bookmark/subscribe to the series “Teen Wolf Outsider POVs”. That’s where I’ll be putting all my outsider fics for sterek, petopher, mcstilinski, scallison, and a bunch more that I have planned!


End file.
